Loss
by Kinda.Sorta.Insane
Summary: Everyone deals differently...
1. House

Loss

This is my (much delayed) response to Kutner's death... It was written a while ago and I just rediscovered it. I didn't edit anything and I wrote it before I saw any of the following episodes so some things may not be accurate.

I don't own House.

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><p><strong>House<strong>

Everyone hurts in their own ways. Me? I rant and rave. Toss the blame at everyone. Even myself. Then I try to understand the thing that's causing me pain- the reason why it hurts me. They think that I'm only paying attention to it –the pain- because it's a puzzle. The puzzle is my distraction from the pain. Nothing more. Nothing less. I can't tell them that though. I'm too arrogant for that. With good reason, too. I'm the best there is. They think that once the puzzle is solved, I'll leave it at that. And, as far as they know, I will. Sometimes it takes a while though. It takes time to understand, to rationalize through pain. Emotional pain at least. Physical pain is pretty cut and dry. This happened and this is why it hurts. Emotions aren't like that. You can't just swallow some aspirin or stop doing something and it'll all be better. No. Emotions don't follow any particular logical path. They vary from person to person. People deal with them differently. That's why I like being a Diagnostician. Diagnostics are logical. They don't change their directions without reason. Emotions though… They don't care what you think. They swing wildly back and forth tugging you along like a dog with a chew toy. Problem is: you're the chew toy. Not the dog. That is why people are hard to deal with. They don't all follow the same pattern. I don't know why Kutner killed himself. I want to know. To understand. To make my emotions make sense. At first I blamed everyone. Illogically. Because that's the way these things work. Then I obsessed and reasoned and I just couldn't stop thinking… I tried… I pretended everything was normal. I pretended that Cuddy didn't hire a grief counselor. I pretended that I couldn't take those free days off because I didn't want to. I pretended that the patients didn't actually remind me of him with every suicide attempt an attempt to save each other. And I couldn't. Because there actually was a grief counselor. And, given those free days before, I would've taken them. Now I don't even want to be alone. Responsibilities be damned. And I was reminded of him everywhere I went. The very walls of the hospital seemed darker without him. And… I went home. I ate. I drank. I even watched TV… And then I went to bed. And I lied down… And I didn't sleep. And then I realized my problem. I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss him. And, with that, it all clicked into place. I couldn't stop my eyes from prickling. The pure mortification burned almost as much as the tears. And I couldn't stop the tears that burned their way down my face. And I felt so stupid and helpless. Suddenly it was all I could do not to sob out loud… I blamed myself. I blamed myself for not noticing. I tortured myself for every little thing I did. Then I got mad. At myself. I nearly suffocated myself with my pillow. I just wanted the tears to stop…

When I woke up the next day I took a shower and washed my face. And went back to work as though nothing had happened the night before. I pretended it was all the same. That nothing had changed.


	2. Taub

Loss

**Taub**

He… I sink down against the wall to the floor. I close my phone slowly and drop it to the ground. Jumping a little when it makes contact with the wood. I close my eyes and put my hands flat on the sides of my head. I shudder when the first of the sobs threaten to overtake me. How could he? He just seemed so happy… So… full of life and energy and promise. It's my fault. I spent the most time with him. I've been there before… Surely I would have noticed? His happiness seemed so effortless though. Not forced or fake. He enjoyed the simple pleasures. Sure his childhood wasn't that great but… Thinking about things like this never helps but I can't just _forget_ him. He is- _was_ important, a good friend. This new thought brings on the waterworks and they just don't have any interest in turning off. Tears just keep on coming. Running first down my cheeks, and then my neck before finally dying at my shirt. I consider trying to stop them, but I don't want this to start again at some place that isn't my house. I let them fall and I welcome the relief they bring with them. I wonder what he'd say to me now. I'm clearly not enjoying life with the fervor he seemed to possess. I decide that I'll miss that the most. That passion for life. Right now, misery is my only company. Well, that and sorrow. Sorrowful sorrow. The tears slowly go away, taking with them most of the negative emotions. The bitter taste of them lingers in my mouth and my mind. I gather my strength and pull myself up. I stand and wonder why for a second. Only for a second though because my vision starts to cloud again. I stretch; sitting on the floor for hours isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. Then I head for the shower. It's been a long day and it isn't over yet. The hot water runs down my body slowly, taking with it the stress and strains of the day's activities. I just wish it wasn't so early. It swirls around my feet before going down the drain. For an implausible moment the water turns to red blood and I choke over my own breath. Then I blink and it's just water again. I run my hands over my face. It's my fault. I should have been there. Where was I? Why didn't I notice? Am I really so ignorant? I drown in the guilt. I welcome it even. It passes through. Like a rogue thunderstorm, anxious to get back on track. Once clean, I step out of the shower and dry off.

This isn't going away, not for a while. I'll probably still be feeling it in a year. And sometimes it'll crush me. But I'll get past it. And I'll live the life he should've had. If not for him, than for myself. It's too late and I know that. But this will help. Everyone at work is going to need someone to act normal and hold them up. I'm willing to be that someone. Someone has to. 


	3. Thirteen

Loss

**Thirteen  
><strong>  
>It should have been me. I'm the one who was supposed to die. It should have been me running from my fears and my body and my life. It should have been me. But it wasn't. It was Kutner. The fun one. The one who should have made it. I ignore everything, as if that will make it go away. I'm a bad person. I don't even enjoy the life I have. He did. He deserves to be here. A whimper tears it's way through my body. I don't want to cry. I tremble with the sheer effort of not crying. My vision is like looking through water. My lips are probably trembling like a girl in some sob story. The rain pounds heavily on the roof. The wind rushes against the windows. I haven't yet turned on a light in my apartment. The world knows that a life was wasted here. In this city. And that's what finally pushes me over the edge. Shoves those tears out from behind my closed eyelids and streaming down my cheeks. Pooling in the hollow of my throat. When they dry, my skin will be tight and itchy. But, for now, the little droplets seem like the cure for this overwhelming pain. Seems like, at the very least, they will make the hurt ebb. But they don't. They make it worse. My own whimpers drive the ache in deeper. It settles; a tight coil in my stomach. All I want to do is curl up with a warm body and cry. And keep crying until I have no more tears. And, even though I know it won't, I still feel like it might help. Or maybe its just wishful thinking that has me wanting to let out all these pent up emotions. Sadness. Betrayal. Guilt. Hurt. Anger. The rest of the team probably feels the same… The thought holds no consolation. Thinking doesn't help. The more I think about it, about him, the more I cry. The more I cry, the more I think. It's a vicious cycle. Eventually my tear ducts will dry out though. Maybe then it'll stop… When they dry, the only thing that actually stops are the tears. The sobbing continues. Dry sobbing. Nothing has ever cut so deep as this. Slashing and tearing and leaving a thick and ever-bleeding path of scar tissue in its wake. Eventually blood stops flowing. Scars fade. Emotions don't always last. Sometimes a moment can drag on like eternity. Sometimes it'll be gone in the blink of an eye. This day, this moment, is one that will stick around. It will haunt my dreams, my thoughts, my life. It will appear in unexpected places and force me to relive it. It will strive to be remembered.<p>

I'll create better memories to replace it. The better ones are the ones pass in a blink though, so I'll have to gather thousands of them. Thousands to crowd out this one day. That's my goal. To forget this day without forgetting Kutner. As I fight my battle of hiccups and dry sobs, I attempt a small smile. I've found my own silver lining.

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><p>This is all there was... Eventually, I will go back and do the rest of the characters...<p> 


End file.
